tell me how to fix this
by hanabobanana
Summary: Just a quick speculation of what might happen tonight (5x10) when Theo confronts Stiles. Stiles loses it a little. ANGST.


" _Tell me how to fix this._ " he'd said, because he'd seen his best friend back away from him as if he was some kind of monster. That was the moment Stiles realised nothing would ever be the same between he and Scott again. Seeing his best friend's face, a face that didn't wholly recognise the person standing in front of him, was something he could have never prepared himself for. And that's why he'd resorted to pleading, begging almost. _Tell me how to fix this._ Because it had to be fixed. Everything had to be fixed. This, his Jeep, the dread doctors, his own guilt. It had to be fixed, and he hated how much he needed Scott to tell him how, and he hated how the werewolf couldn't.

He'd realised he didn't know how to live without Scott, werewolf or not. He'd never done it before. And his fears of having to do so had become his reality. Scott had pushed him out, and Stiles had never felt such a terrifying, gut wrenching sense of alone.

He was in his Jeep, driving. He didn't know where. He didn't know why. It was freezing as the missing window on the passenger side let all the cold night air in, but he didn't notice. His knuckles were white where his hands clutched the wheel too tightly. His breaths came unsteady. Stiles didn't know where anyone was. He didn't know if his friends were okay; if they were even alive.

Lydia was missing as of this morning. Scott wasn't replying to him, nor Malia, which made him both angry and terrified. A furious panic was rising within him like bile, ready to break free and take over.

And that's when his Jeep chose to break down again. The engine stuttered, coughed, then stopped as the vehicle slowly rolled to a standstill at the side of the empty road Stiles had found himself on.

"No no no." he muttered, because driving was the only thing he had to distract himself from what was happening. It was a wheel to turn, a pedal to push, some tiny remnant of control in a world where it seemed he had none, and now even that was slipping.

His breaths deepened.

 _Tell me how to fix this._

He planted his elbows against his steering wheel, shoved his head into his hands, and tried to think of the answers. It was all he did. It was all he ever did. But his head was full of red string and dead ends, and it became less a feat of finding the answers than assuring himself that they actually did exist somewhere, that it wasn't utterly hopeless.

And then it occurred to him that he had to fix his Jeep. It was the only thing he could do. He had to fix it and keep it running, because if he couldn't fix his Jeep then there was nothing left. Nothing left at all.

He reached for the glove compartment, pulled it open, and grabbed the wrench he'd put there. It was only when he pulled it out and saw once again at the blood that stained it did his hands really start to shake.

His breaths deepened. The panic rose further. He didn't know what to do. He didn't know what to do and it was too much.

"Stiles?"

Stiles jumped at the voice. He was pulled from his panic at the sight of Theo, lit up by the street lamps and his Jeep's headlights.

"Stiles, are you alright?"

His hands still trembling, Stiles fumbled with the handle next to him and pushed the door open, sliding, half stumbling out onto the road, wrench still in his grasp.

"Stiles?"

Stiles stepped closer to Theo, who in turn stepped back at the sight of him holding the bloodied tool. Stiles hadn't intended to look threatening, but when Theo cautiously moved away from him it reminded him too much of Scott and last night, hurting as well as making him realise something he'd stupidly neglected.

"You told him."

Stiles voice was cold. His hand tightened around the wrench. He swallowed the lump in his throat. Theo only looked concerned, worried.

"What do you mean, Stiles?"

Stiles' eyebrows drew inwards. He looked Theo up and down, trying to read him, and when he failed to reply, Theo only became exasperated.

"Look, I can't find Scott." he said, stepping forward, seeming to ignore his initial wariness of Stiles. "He wouldn't bite Hayden and Liam ran off. Lydia's missing. You're the only person left, Stiles. I followed you here. Are you okay?"

"You told Scott about Donovan." said Stiles.

Theo hesitated. His eyes travelled to the tool that Stiles was grasping and realisation seeped into his features. His demeanour changed a little, strangely growing calmer.

"Stiles, I'm sorry." he said.

Stiles on the other hand was heading in the opposite direction. His panic began to curl and transform itself into hot white anger when Theo confirmed his suspicion.

"What do you mean, you're sorry?" he said, stepping forward again. "You knew what would happen and you told him anyway. He had this." He raised the wrench. "That means you kept it. You gave it to were always going to. You _wanted_ this."

Theo didn't deny any of it. His eyes kept flashing from the wrench in Stiles' hand to his face, his expression unchanging. Stiles wasn't sure how to react. He'd expected Theo to deny it, to come up with some justifiable explanation that would leave Stiles feeling just as distrustful but with no good reason to punch him in the face. But Theo said nothing. It caused the rising anger to intertwine with a horrific sense of unease, making Stiles feel nothing short of ill.

"What are you doing here, Theo?" he asked. "Why did you really come back?"

"I never lied about why I cam to Beacon Hills, Stiles." said Theo. "I came for a pack. I came back for you. It's why I had to separate him from you. It's why I had to separate him from everyone."

"What?" Stiles felt like someone had dropped him in ice water. Theo was involved in this. He'd known it from the start. But hearing it brought no satisfaction, only fear.

"Where is he?" he said. "Where's Scott?"

Theo smiled a little then, and it was all the confirmation Stiles needed.

"You don't really want to know." the werewolf replied.

"Yeah, I do." Stiles raised his voice now, fear and anger swelling, tearing him up. "Where the hell is my friend?"

"I came for a pack, Stiles." Theo raised his own voice in turn. "I came for the were-coyote. I came for the banshee. The dark kitsune. The beta with anger issues. _I came for Void-Stiles._ That's the pack I want. And unfortunately, it doesn't include Scott."

Stiles didn't understand Theo's intentions. But it didn't matter. All he registered was that Scott was in danger, more than he ever had been before. And he felt like he might explode. This person standing in front of him was someone Scott had allowed into his pack, someone his best friend had trusted, someone he'd thought was _helping_ him, and the hunger he saw in Theo's eyes now, the _evil,_ was utterly horrifying. This creature was a cold-blooded sociopath. Stiles could see that now.

"Did you hurt him?"

His voice was low, his breaths shallow.

"No." said Theo. "By the end of tonight, someone else'll do that for me."

Several months of subdued rage broke out and Stiles lunged, striking Theo across the face with the wrench. He should have been shocked that his human strength was enough to knock Theo to the ground, but he had no attention for anything other than the worry for his friends and his new found desire to hurt.

"Where is he?!" Stiles yelled, seething. It was then that Theo started laughing.

"You know, I'm the reason Donovan came after you." he said, after spitting blood onto the concrete. Stiles stopped in his tracks. "I told him to. I'm the reason you had to kill him. But you would have done that anyway. I was just helping you realise who you really are."

The wrench dropped from Stiles hand and clattered on the ground.

"And Malia," Theo continued, starting to prop himself up on one arm. "She confided in me, you know? She told me things she would never tell you. Things about her mother. Things you'll never know."

Stiles hand clenched around the empty space left by the wrench.

"And Lydia. Oh, she's going to have a real big headache after how hard I hit her this morning. Then again, at least she won't be Scott."

And that was what it took for Stiles to lose it. He kicked Theo in the face hard, then

dived down to straddle his waist when he landed on his back. He punched, feeling skin split across his knuckles.

"Where are they?!" he yelled, punching again, and then again, and then again. "You son of a bitch, where are they!"

He grabbed Theo's shoulders, and shook, but Theo didn't say anything, his face now bloodied along with Stiles' fists. So Stiles hands found their way to Theo's throat instead. He tightened his grip until his muscles ached, and Theo began to choke. He was killing him, trying to in fact. And he didn't even care.

Theo's hands came up, pushing against Stiles shoulders, a weak attempt at stopping him. Stiles just kept squeezing.

Maybe it was because of hatred. Maybe it was because of fear. Maybe it was because Theo deserved it. It was probably because Scott and his mother were right to be afraid of him, because there was something bad within him, something _wrong_. He could kill again. Easily, if he wanted to.

But he didn't want to.

Theo gasped as Stiles' grip loosened. It took him a couple of seconds to realise what he'd been about to do, and then he let out the breath he didn't know he'd been holding. He pushed himself away from Theo, landing on his backside with a thud. He lifted his trembling hands, staring at them, feeling like he might throw up.

Theo started coughing, but soon regained himself and began heaving himself upright. His hand went to rub his bruised throat.

"You haven't disappointed me, Stiles." he said, voice rough. "I knew you had it in you. Now we've just got to bring it to the surface."

Theo made it to his feet, wiping the blood from his mouth. Stiles didn't even register him walking over to pick up the wrench he had dropped. He suddenly felt a little dazed, like his body wasn't his own any more.

Stiles hadn't done much damage to the werewolf, but Theo was still breathing hard with exertion. He tossed the tool in his hand, smiling again. It should have made Stiles mad, but his anger had dissipated into exhaustion. All he felt now was fear and guilt and sickness.

"Where are they?" he asked again, but this time it came out more like a desperate plea, because that's exactly what it was.

"You'll find out soon enough."

Theo lashed out, returning the blow that Stiles had given him, except this time supernaturally aided strength sent Stiles slamming into the ground. His head hit the road with a crack, and he barely registered the pain before he blacked out.


End file.
